


rocking back and forth in our clown shoes

by andorjyny



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pining, Whose Line is it Anyway AU, absolutely stealing jokes from whose line, don't get it twisted this is just cassian pining for jyn, exploring comedians' shitty psychology, exploring the harmful effects of perfectionism, literally everyone is queer js, maybe some sex later on but unlikely, rating is for language and drugs and shit, they're definitely doing it though, this is tumblr's fault, unbetaed and I literally could not care less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andorjyny/pseuds/andorjyny
Summary: The crack-treated-seriously Rogue One Whose Line Is It Anyway/improv comedians au that precisely three people asked for. To the rest of humanity, I apologize.
Relationships: Cassian Andor & Leia Organa, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor/Ruescott Melshi (but it's brief and in the past), Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 17





	rocking back and forth in our clown shoes

**Author's Note:**

> While this was inspired by the idea of Baze and Chirrut as Ryan and Colin but married, this first part is mainly Cassian sulking about a number of things. Also, the title comes from a quote by Lewis Black from his Carnegie Hall special from 2006(?) and it's stuck with me for years. Most of the skits are lifted from Whose Line. Cassian and Leia being cousins stems from my headcanon that Fest is a former colony of Alderaan.

**2003**

“So the first game is Let’s Make A Date,” Cassian says as he glances at the card in his hand. “Jyn, Baze and Bodhi are contestants on a dating show hoping to be picked by uh, Han, for some reason.” Han glares at him and then shoots another at the tiny executive producer laughing behind the cameras near Draven. Cassian grins to the camera. “Each of them has been given a strange characteristic or ability. Let me remind you that this is the first time they have seen these before. Han’s gonna ask them some questions to get a date, and try to guess who they are at the end. Anytime you’re ready.” 

They take their seats on the cheap stools that the network provided, each of the “contestants” holding cards in their hands. 

Han winks at the camera and then turns to-

“Bachelor number one,” he says, pitching his voice higher. “If I were in distress, how would you rescue me?”

Baze, assigned the role of Someone Who Thinks Han Is Absolutely Repulsive, throws him a magnificently nauseated look. He scrunches up his nose and scratches his beard. “I’d have to think about it first,” he says with a scowl. “Hopefully if your face was on fire, I’d get to beat it out.”

The audience is rolling with it. And Cassian, who’d caught Han and Leia making out in his office earlier, enjoys the image a little too much. “Well, you might not win,” Han replies in his ridiculous feminine voice. Baze throws up a relieved thumbs up.

“Bachelor number two,” Han says, tossing his imaginary coiffure over his shoulder. “Hiya!”

“Ciao bella,” Bodhi (an Amorous Italian Opera Singer) sings in a deep, operatic voice. Cassian smiles as Jyn, who has been stoic throughout the skit thus far, rolls her eyes. 

Han fans himself. “Well, bachelor number two-”

“Yesss?”

Jyn rubs her temples with her middle fingers. Cassian has to hand it to her, she is absolutely keeping herself in character even as she makes her displeasure known to him. 

“Bachelor number two, when I go out for dinner I never pay for myself because, well,” Han giggles, gesturing to himself. “I don’t have to. Look at me.”

Bodhi begins to laugh in that operatic style of his, cupping his hands in front of his chest.

“Wow, I could stop playing right now, but I am contractually obligated to go on. Bachelor number three, I like tall men. Are you tall?”

Jyn smacks her feet against the second rung of the stool as Cassian starts cracking up behind his desk, and he can practically hear her thoughts. _Dick_. “Was that a short joke? Because it, uh, could make me mad. And you wouldn’t like me when I’m mad. I uh-” she starts shaking, growling and mimes her shirt ripping open, flexing her muscles.

“Okay, that is terrifying. Anyway. Bachelor number one. Woo me!”

Baze looks like he’s never heard anything less appealing - and Cassian can’t really blame him. “What?”

“WOO ME!”

“Alright, alright. Just once. Eurgh. _Woo_.” Baze makes a shooing motion with his hands, and the audience goes wild.

“Bachelor number two, where would you take me for a romantic dinner?”

Bodhi smiles and begins to sing. “I would take you- take you- take you to the place, it’d put a smile-a on your-a face, because I go, I go, the deal I’ll seal, when I give your behind a happy meal!”

“Bachelor number three, what’s your favorite color and why?”

Jyn stands up. “GREEEEEEEN!” she roars, picks up the stool and pretends to rip it from the ground before tossing it behind her. She runs around the set, crazed, and throws her head in Bodhi’s direction. “ARGHHHHHHH!” Cassian has an idea of what she’s up to, and he knows that she can pick Bodhi up fairly easily, as well as Cassian; Baze would be a struggle to lift and Cassian is behind the desk, so Bodhi is her easiest target. He watches as Bodhi looks away with a grin - of course he knows what she’s planning - and heaves him over her shoulder with another roar. Bodhi starts to harmonize with her, and she nearly drops him.

Cassian hits the buzzer a few times before someone gets hurt. “Alright, showoff. Han, wanna guess who they are?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a stab at it!” Han says. “Bachelor number one thinks I’m gross for some reason.”

“I wonder where he gets that from,” Cassian says. “Yes, he thinks you are absolutely repulsive.”

“Well, we can’t all have good taste. Bachelor number two is an Italian operatic singer, so I don’t think that’s gonna work because he’d probably have to go to bed pretty early.”

“That’s correct, not sure what gave it away,” he replies, laughing at Bodhi’s gleaming smile.

Han laughs. “And bachelor number three, is... Dr. Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk?”

“She sure is.” Cassian laughs as the audience cheers.

“Jyn, you can pick me up any time,” Han says as they all pick up their stools and place them beside the desk. It’s part of his shtick, being an insufferable flirt, but it doesn’t stop Cassian from looking away from them before he can see her response.

“500 points to Jyn for deadlifting a man twice your size.”

She smirks as she returns to her seat. Next to her, Chirrut reaches for Baze’s hand.

Draven ends the scene and one of the makeup artists starts to touch up his powder when he sees that she’s making her way over to his desk. It’s supposed to be the top of the show, but they are nearing the end of the shoot, and he can see how much it’s wearing on her despite how well she thinks she hides her exhaustion. 

“Almost done,” Cassian says soothingly when the makeup artist walks away. “For a moment, I thought you were gonna try to throw _me_ over your shoulder.”

She smiles. “Maybe later,” she says before reaching for his mug and taking a sip. He shakes his head but he looks up at her with a smile, meeting her green eyes so full of mirth and something he doesn’t feel comfortable naming just yet. This thing they’ve got between them feels so fragile, trembling hands and bitten off moans in darkened rooms, he’s hardly going to bring it up here. Especially not in front of an audience.

It's not fragile though, it's sturdier than any other _thing_ he's ever had with anyone. Maybe that's what makes it so scary.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Leia says as she pops up from behind, and the moment passes. Jyn snorts as she leans over him to set his mug back in its place. “Jyn, Kay has some notes for the Hoedown.”

She groans. “That’s it, I quit!” she says, throwing up her hands into the air, but she wanders off to search for him anyway. Cassian tries not to watch her like a heartsick fool, especially not with Leia standing right there, watching him like she can see right through him. Sometimes she reminds him too much of Breha.

“I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been,” she mutters in Spanish. “Cassian, you absolute idiot.”

“ _Leia_.”

“What happened to _keeping it professional_?”

“Not here,” he replies softly.

Leia swears under her breath. “You can tell me all about it tonight then.” He winces and glances over at Jyn, who is banging her head against Kay’s piano. They’d planned on going to his place after the show. His cousin rolls her eyes. “Tomorrow. But absolutely no later, or my mind is going to go places. Marriage and children places.”

"Fine, but if I catch you and Han in my shit again, I'm gonna call HR."

She turns bright red. "How do you know about that?"

"I have my ways."

**1996**

The show is Cassian's idea, as odd as that seems. Improv isn't stand-up, and he knows sketch comedy is not his lane. He's not a classically trained actor nor a Second City alum; he's a self-loathing, foul-mouthed lefty from San Antonio who managed to make a decent bit of money telling the police and the military to fuck themselves. He did Carnegie Hall on his last tour, and he's written a book that he's fairly proud of. But he’s famously self-aware; network television is a pretty big jump from clowning around at Carnegie, even if it isn’t _The Tonight Show_. 

It isn’t even something he ever really thought about, doing television.

Leia cackles into her espresso when he tells her over breakfast at a cafe near her Los Angeles apartment. "You're not exactly advertiser friendly," she says in Spanish. "How the fuck did you get ABC to sign off on your ass? I mean, you’re charming but not _that_ charming.”

“I blew a guy,” he says. “Apparently I am _that_ charming.”

“Get fucked. That’s not funny.”

He taps his fingers on her table and frowns. “I think Bail called in a favor.”

She bites her lip. “If he did, and I am not saying that he did, it’s only because he believes in you.” He scoffs. “It’s true! Just because you hate asking for his help doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. I know you’d rather do everything all on your own, but no one gets anywhere completely alone. You know that, so take the help when you need it.”

“I didn’t ask for anything, Leia. He meddled.”

“He’s good at that,” she says as the waitress places a heaping pile of pancakes in front of her. Cassian’s eggs and bacon smile up at him. 

“Must run in the family,” he says once the waitress has moved on. Leia smiles sweetly at him.

“Bitch, I’m adopted. Besides, this isn’t about me, or Dad. This is about your never ending quest to prove yourself.”As always, Leia cuts to the core of things better than anyone he knows.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she says. She pours entirely too much syrup onto her pancakes. Cassian doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his cousin doesn’t either. It’s a little unsettling, but then this whole conversation is putting him off his meal. “If you got the gig solely because of some kind of interference from Dad that you’re probably making up in your head, by the way, well… then the numbers will suck and you’ll get canceled. Hell, you’ll probably get canceled anyway. I mean, an improv troupe, but a game show. How high were you when you thought of this?"

"It's not a real game show, that's part of the joke. 'Everything's made up and the points don't matter.' There's no contestants, it's just bullshit points."

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says after chewing for a moment.

“And I’m not gonna,” he replies. She throws him a look mid-chew. He hasn’t smoked in months. He was inspired, but Leia doesn’t need to know that. She’ll start asking questions. “Especially since I’m just gonna get cancelled.”

“That wasn’t my point,” she says, reaching for the butter. “Cassian, Organas meddle. It’s our favorite pastime. But we’re also really, really good at what we do. And like it or not, you are family. So whether or not Dad stuck his nose into your life again, just kill the 8 PM slot, get the fucking ratings and the critical acclaim, and then fuck the rest. For what it’s worth, I bet you’re gonna sweep the Emmys.” She smiles up at him. "Who do you have in mind? For the troupe."

" _Panelists_. Bodhi Rook, Chirrut Imwe, Baze Malbus and, uh." Cassian can feel his ears heat up. Leia raises a thin brow. "And you know Jyn Erso, right?"

“Are you kidding me? Jyn Erso, on a network?” She leans back in her seat and folds her arms over her chest, but she’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin he’s ever seen on her. “Oh, I take back everything I said. You’re gonna get canceled in… like, the first week.”

**1993**

It is Scott Melshi's fault. Well, Melshi's _dick_ 's fault. He has a good dick, and they have a lot of fun together, not just while having sex. But Melshi is on a _break_ from his longterm boyfriend as well as their band, and Cassian is about as emotionally unavailable as it gets. Friends with benefits tend to be temporary arrangements, and that suits them both just fine.

The funny thing is, the Gerrera show is kind of meant to be a date. Melshi pays for the plane ride and everything. Pretty thoughtful, since Cassian has been meaning to see the Partisans for ages. Saw Gerrera is a legend in comedy, a comedian's comedian, serious about his craft to the point of obsession. And yet, when so many of his friends had gone on to NYC and Hollywood, Saw had stayed in Chicago and kept his attention on his community. He was famously disinterested in money.

Even if he is a bit of a prick, Cassian has always admired the guy.

Gerrera's Partisans are a motley crew of comedians, actors, musicians and poets. Still, clearly Saw is the draw, his name brings in the crowds.

"So I heard Erso's back," says a guy in the row behind Cassian. He snaps his head around a little too quickly and feels it in his neck.

" _Galen Erso_?"

The man coughs nervously. "No, of course not. It's Jyn, his daughter."

"Oh," Cassian says. "Thanks."

The man squints at him as Cassian turns back around, but Cassian isn’t that well known.

"What were the odds of Galen Erso coming anywhere near Saw Gerrera?" Melshi whispers as the lights come down, and the theater hushes. Cassian shrugs, but nearly jumps up when the ghost of Lyra Erso takes a seat in one of the chairs on the stage. The Queen of Standup, back from the dead.

Jyn, he reminds himself. The daughter of two of the greatest comedic minds to ever live. In his experience, stars’ children don’t end up in shitty comedy clubs doing work with their parents’ former friends. They capitalize on their names, on their pedigrees. Hollywood is full of legacy and nepotism, and Cassian _hates_ it.

But Jyn Erso… well, he hadn’t even seen her name in the playbill. 

And from the moment the Partisans get going, Jyn Erso lights up the stage with her quick wit and her leather jacket and her _filthy_ fucking mouth. Electric and fire _and she doesn’t miss a beat._ It’s not her parents’ name that is killing tonight.

One of the Partisans recognizes Melshi and invites them to join them at the afterparty. The last thing Cassian feels like doing is drinking himself into a stupor with a bunch of narcissistic, misanthropic assholes - which is usually what happens when he parties with other comedians.

“Come on, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Not like either of us have anywhere to be.”

Privately, Cassian thinks that’s kind of the problem. Melshi doesn’t want to deal with the quiet of his apartment, doesn’t want to look at his unfinished lyrics. And Cassian, well… Cassian has never wanted for ambition, but lately his act is feeling a little old.

Especially after watching Jyn Erso. 

If he can get five minutes with her, pick her brain, maybe she’ll spark some inspiration in him. “Alright,” he says, not quite meeting Melshi’s eyes. “I’ll get the cab this time.”

The party is exactly what he expected. Melshi is far more interested in the guy who invited them along than he is in talking to Cassian, which suits him just fine. He’s got an agenda too, she’s just nowhere to be seen. 

Cassian needs a smoke. Usually he’d go for a joint, but this is a nicotine craving. He slinks out of the club and into the cool autumn air, pressing his back against the brick wall. It’s quiet but his ears ring from the music. His pulse is high, he’s covered in sweat, and he doesn’t really know why he’s still wearing his old leather jacket.

“Got a light?” a woman asks. He turns and finds himself meeting kohl-rimmed green eyes. “I left mine back at the theater.”

“Y-yeah, hang on.” He reaches for his zippo, and holds it up with a shaking hand to the cigarette hanging from her bottom lip. 

“Thanks,” she says after she takes a drag. “I hate coming to these things, but my friend Bodhi makes me.” She looks up at him through those dark lashes, that smudged liner. He hadn’t realized she was so short; on stage she had seemed so larger than life. “You’re Cassian Andor.”

“You’re Jyn Erso,” he counters after lighting his own cigarette. “That bit with the goat was the funniest thing I’ve seen in awhile.”

Her lips quirk up as she looks out to the street in front of them. It’s late, but it’s also a Saturday, so it’s still pretty busy. “Saw doesn’t come to these things, you know.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’d rather talk to you?”

She turns those big eyes back onto him and raises a brow. “Over Saw? No, I wouldn’t.”

“Alright.” He respects that. Even if she isn’t riding on her family name and the work of her parents, he can imagine that she gets a lot of questions about them. 

They stand in silence for a minute before she sighs. “I’ve seen your specials. I can see her influence in your work. It’s not like I haven’t heard it before - ‘Lyra is the reason I got into standup.’ She was great but she was also my mum, and I… just don’t care about her comedy.”

“Jeron Ortiz Andor is the reason I got into standup,” he says, and he’s not sure why, but it is true. But it’s a little too true, too honest. It’s uncomfortable. He’s certainly never said it before, barely even thought it. “He was the funniest bastard in the world to me when I was six. He could make anyone laugh with a look. And I wanted to be him.” There, that sounds better. It cools his nerves. Like something he’d say in an interview or to a fan.

“Did you succeed?”

He smiles. For all of the wrong reasons, probably. Like his father, he’d never be satisfied, and wasn’t that the problem? But Cassian is a master of deflection. “I thought so, until I saw you tonight.”

“Get fucked.”

“I’m serious! I can hardly believe how good you were. You were so natural up there.” She rolls her eyes, but they’re shining. She presses her cigarette into the ashtray resting haphazardly by the door. For a moment, he feels the panic of the club ratcheting back up in his body; he just doesn’t want her to leave. He thinks he’d like to talk with her for hours. 

But she walks back over to him. “Natural?” she scoffs. “None of it is _natural_ , Cassian. Those people who think they’re just gonna get in front of a mic and start killing, the fucking funny assholes whose friends tell them to get into comedy while they’re in their goddamn marketing programs… your _dad_ even, they’re not us. I know that, and I think you do, too.” She bites her lip. “Sorry, I know what you meant. I just- it’s a bit of a thing with Saw.”

“High expectations?”

“More like impossible. Never quick enough, never natural enough. This was my last show, I’m heading out tomorrow morning, and he couldn’t even make an effort to be here.” She laughs, but it’s bitter and chillier than this autumnal Chicago night. “I’m not sure why I’m bothering you with this. Not usually much of an over-sharer.”

He smiles down at her. “I don’t mind. Really.” Jyn presses her lips together, but she’s got this gorgeous hopeful look in her green eyes, and she’s lit up by a blinking streetlight, and he feels far too vulnerable but it’s a good sort of vulnerability. The kind he wouldn’t write about because he’d want to keep it all to himself.

“You sure?”

“Ye-”

“Cassi! There you are!” Melshi calls from the entrance, his accent roughed up with alcohol and whatever else he’d gotten himself into. Jyn freezes beside him. “Mate, we’ve gotta go!”

“Oh,” she whispers and for a second there’s a wariness to her that’s new, but she recovers quickly. “Have a nice night then.”

“Good night,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Come _on_!” Melshi whines, sauntering over like he hasn’t just ruined Cassian’s night. “I want to suck your dick!”

Cassian flushes as his fling stumbles into Jyn and wraps an arm around his waist. “Um. I don’t even know what to say to that,” Jyn says, but then she begins to laugh. “Oh, wait. Use protection?” she adds.

He sincerely doubts that anything is happening tonight, Melshi is entirely too out of his skull, but she still makes him smile. “It was nice meeting you, Jyn.”

As they walk away, he looks back and sees her standing by the wall, arms wrapped around her waist, small and alone.

**2003**

They sneak into a town car provided by the network after the show. They've changed out of their suits, out of their television personas - Cassian Andor, the charming host; Jyn Erso, the temperamental improv prodigy. It's not that they are playing characters, but rather amplifying pieces of themselves. The same can be said for the others. Baze is not nearly as curmudgeonly as he plays himself to be. Bodhi rarely breaks into song when he's not doing the show, not since he left Broadway. Chirrut is actually the most... authentically himself on screen, but even he ramps up his weird omnipotence for the audience.

Cassian knows he can be charming and likable, but he swears far more in real life - partly because of the damn censor - and he smiles significantly less. But as Jyn reaches for his hand and rubs his thumb with hers, he thinks that may be changing. She's gazing out the window, and he's too well acquainted with her introversion to worry, or to ask her if she's okay. Jyn the real life woman needs time to decompress after a show, to recharge her Dealing With The World battery. On the show, she's near feral and buzzing with energy, she's still the funniest person he's ever seen perform. She still makes him want to do so much more with himself, just like that first time in Chicago when he'd seen her in her final show with the Partisans. Now he understands her effect on him far better than he had then. He sees the need to be great in her, the fire that sparks when she's in front of an audience, and he wants to soak it all in. Everything she can give.

She still has a _filthy_ fucking mouth, but now she keeps it off screen unless she feels like fucking with the censor. He loves her mouth, loves every part of her. Loves how she smiles into his pillow after a good orgasm, loves the way she doesn't tell him to change the channel when he puts the news on, loves how her hair is getting curly, loves her toothbrush next to his, loves her fading London accent. All of it. It's probably about time he tells her, he's been in love with her for years, but he'll ask Dr. Mothma what she thinks during his appointment. 

When they arrive at his apartment, she smiles at the doorman and asks after his cat. "I like cats," she says in the elevator. "You're severely allergic, otherwise I'd have like eight."

"I'm touched." He wraps his arms around her waist and presses his lips to the crown of her head. He feels her lips curl into a smile against his collarbone. "What?" he asks warily as the elevator chimes their arrival at his floor. She pulls away and bites down on her grin.

"It's really bad," she says as she pulls on his hand and leads him down the hall.

"I still want to hear it."

She pulls his key chain from his jacket pocket and shakes her head as she unlocks his door. He loves how at ease she feels in his space, how she knows exactly where he likes to throw his keys and where the light switches are, and he realizes, without a shadow of a doubt, that she loves him. It stuns him, and he can't quite believe it's taken this long for him to get it, get how strong her feelings for him are, how much she wants to carve a space for herself in his home and-

"Fine," she says as she takes off her boots and places them neatly by the door (because she knows what he likes). "You said, 'I'm touched' and I was gonna say, 'no but you will be.'"

He groans as he takes her jacket and hangs it in his coat closet. "That was horrible."

"I told you."

"But it's also kind of working for me," he says when she winds her arms around his neck. His hands find her way under her shirt, which is pretty typical of them. Jyn laughs. "Welcome home."

She looks up at him, surprise lighting up her eyes. "Yeah?"

He closes the space between them, presses his lips to hers like he's wanted to do all day, drinking up all her little sighs, dizzy with urgency and her taste, and-

Leia. Fuck. He pulls away.

"What's wrong?" Jyn asks, lips red and cheeks flushed, and he'd like to shake his head, pick her up and carry her into his bedroom, but he's having lunch with Leia tomorrow, and Leia knows that they're sleeping together, or at least she suspects something, and he's going to have to tell her that he loves Jyn, and this private sweet thing that they have is not going to be private anymore, and he knows Jyn, knows himself, and he's gonna fuck this u-

"Cassian, breathe." She pulls on his hand and sits down on his couch. Oh, he's panicking. That's fun. "You know these attacks don't last, you're gonna be okay, just breathe through it." And he does, and he tries to tell her that he knows, but he can't speak, can't even catch his breath. She pulls him into her arms and rubs his back. "I've got you. I've got you, Cassian. Love you, just keep breathing."

When he comes back to himself, it feels like hours, or minutes, but it's really only seconds later. His panic attacks aren't long, they're blessedly short, but they're exhausting nevertheless. So much for sex. His hands shake as he smiles sheepishly at Jyn. "I think I've killed the mood."

"That's fine," she says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Leia knows. About us."

Jyn freezes, and he is reminded of the night they met, and Melshi interrupting them. She's always been deeply private. He curses himself, he should have found some other way to tell her, to ease her into the notion of being openly together. If she wants that at all. Which... well, they've been sneaking around for months, and she's always been pretty clear about keeping this between them. And for a while, that didn't really bother him because he's not good at relationships, and their friends are overbearing, and he wants this thing between them to work out.

"So the thought of your cousin knowing about us induced a panic attack?" Oh. She sounds annoyed. He meets her gaze, and yep, she looks annoyed, too.

"Jyn, no. Yes. Not like that."

She sighs, but she's not running. She's still holding onto him. "Like what then?"

"Leia saw you with my mug earlier, and I guess she put the pieces together, and now I have to tell her tomorrow over lunch that we're..."

Jyn shifts away and pulls her legs up to her chest. "What, Cassian?" she asks.

"Together? I mean, I hope so."

"We spend more nights together than we do apart, so I would say that we're together." She laughs. "But how would we know that if we haven't said that? We haven't really made plans."

He yawns. "Maybe tonight isn't the night to do all that. But Jyn, I want you with me. At parties and with our friends. For as long as you'll have me."

She kisses his cheek and cuddles into his shoulder. "Well that's awfully convenient, since I want that too." He rakes his hand through her hair. "Let's go to bed. And tomorrow we can have lunch with Leia."

**Author's Note:**

> LOL what is this I stg tumblr is a bad influence.


End file.
